


Soul Stealer

by Nightscrawl



Series: The Meaning of More [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-19 01:17:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14225958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightscrawl/pseuds/Nightscrawl
Summary: Every relationship has its firsts: a first knowing look, a first flirt... a first kiss.





	Soul Stealer

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to [Schattenriss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schattenriss/pseuds/Schattenriss) for doing the beta of this work!

_“I need to talk to you,” he says. Have it your way… But let’s go where a hundred onlookers won’t think I’m stealing the Inquisitor’s soul._  
—Dorian

 

Beyond the great hall, once across the threshold of the door leading to the interior of the keep, Judah paused a step so he matched pace with Dorian and took hold of his hand. He might have done so before, but he didn’t know how Dorian would handle such a display; an idea that seemed absurd given the rumors that already existed about them and the mere visual evidence of sneaking off to his quarters, together, in the middle of the day.

On their first meeting, Judah had been interested almost immediately. Having met so many varied people as part of the Inquisition, most of his preconceptions had long been shifted, altered, or entirely broken. A Tevinter mage that wanted to fight against his own countrymen? Sure, why not? Dorian was handsome and confident, and even as a stranger in a strange land, Judah saw that he was unafraid of him, the glowing mark on his hand, or the Inquisition. It was distracting and he likely would have made a fool of himself had there not been more pressing matters on which to focus his attention.

Their trip into the future had been something else altogether. He still didn’t remember his journey into the Fade or the events surrounding the explosion at the Conclave, so the time travel amounted to the most bizarre, the most frightening, occurrence in his life. Determination in the midst of adversity, subtle humor to bleed away the tension of a seemingly impossible task, compassion in the face of betrayal; these are the things Judah had seen and admired, even as they were surrounded by devastation. In a strange way, he liked the idea that it was an experience he and Dorian shared; only the two of them, alone among all members of the Inquisition—indeed all of Thedas—knew the fear, and had seen the terrible consequence should the Inquisition fail in its mission.

As he got to know him better, Judah found himself charmed by Dorian’s wit and attracted to his curiosity and intelligence. He greeted anything new with wonder and excitement, increased even further if the discovery was magical in nature. Never did he shy away from answering any of Judah’s seemingly mundane questions, for they gave him an excuse to expound on his favorite topic. If such a find happened to be related to Tevinter, he could only smile as Dorian’s pride in his homeland came shining through.

When presented with the opportunity he had made an attempt at a tentative, subtle flirt: a compliment marked by the lightest shift in tone to signal intention. Dorian didn’t respond in kind, but neither did he rebuff the advance; a short laugh of acceptance was Judah’s reward.

The incident with Dorian’s father had exposed Judah to a completely new and unexpected side of him. He was struck by his vulnerability and pain, and was saddened to see it, while also feeling privileged that he’d been allowed to. Nestled beneath the sympathy and care for his friend, there was a kernel of anger at his father that only grew whenever he turned the warmth of his thoughts in its direction. Dorian was a unique, brilliant, beautiful person, and that was all nearly wiped out due to blind obsession with family legacy and the drive for achievement. Loathe as he was to admit it, a small, selfish part of Judah despaired that, had the plan succeeded, he would never have known him. But such dark feelings seemed unproductive, an unwanted hindrance, in the face of Dorian’s pain, so he determined never to share them.

With Dorian, there was a pull, a certain kind of closeness with another person he hadn’t felt in a very long time, had in fact felt with only one other person. It was _so easy_ to be his friend, to be around him, to talk with him, or even just be an attentive listener when he chattered on about this or that point of interest. On such occasions, he had the feeling they had known each other for years, then the moment would end and their surroundings reminded him that they had not.

In those moments, Dorian seemed inscrutable, but then there would be some simple remark, perhaps accompanied by a soft smile, to show that he might consider him apart from all others. Judah wanted more, for their friendship to shift and grow and change. But did Dorian want that as well? Their flirting was done with the same casual ease as the rest of their interaction, so he couldn’t tell if there was the possibility to move beyond friendship. Then the kiss happened and he was pleasantly stunned into inaction.

Even as it was thrilling, their first kiss was one-sided. In response to a quip, without even a hint of suggestion, Dorian had pressed his lips against Judah’s and held there for several, seemingly endless seconds. It was sudden and shocking and wonderful, but it was also confusing. He simply couldn't decide whether it was only a physical attraction, or if it had the potential to be more. While Dorian seemed accepting of his attentions, it was difficult to tell what he wanted.

When Judah took his hand, Dorian turned his head aside momentarily to hide a grin, lest the other man he think him amused at his expense. Judah really was very sweet in these matters, something he hadn’t expected nor looked for.

It was quite a trek, but after three flights of stairs and as many doors they finally arrived. While Judah continued to lead him along, Dorian was able to take in the room as they entered. Large latticed windows and doors that opened onto perpendicular balconies flooded the area with natural light; the fanlight above each was inset with the Inquisition sigil arrayed in stained glass. Generous rugs and a healthy fire made the room warm and inviting. It was sparsely decorated, the furniture spare and practical, only what was needed for Judah’s personal use. The sofa and bed were of a matching Orlesian design, minimal, elegant, surprising for anything Orlesian, but not of something to be found in Judah’s room. There was a desk in the farther corner, positioned to take the most advantage of the natural light; a small mountain of reports sat atop this, awaiting the Inquisitor’s perusal. It was the first time Dorian had been in Judah’s quarters, and he briefly wondered whether it would be the last.

“You don’t need much, do you?” he asked. “Now you’ve got me wondering what your room in Ostwick looks like.”

Judah laughed as he took his own glance around the room, seeing it with fresh eyes. “The Trevelyans are big on the Chantry, but even we don’t festoon our rooms with pious sunbursts and the like,” he said, indicating the large round rug, with pride of place, in the center of the room. “There are some scattered books, and a couple of swords, but other than that it’s pretty similar.”

“Very little in the way of decoration. Quite practical, my dear Inquisitor.”

“But that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate decoration on someone else,” Judah said as he tightened his grip on the clasped hand and used it to pull the other man to himself.

Dorian had a grin in response, but it slowly fell away as he looked into Judah’s earnest face, became distracted by the shape of his eyebrows, the contours of his mouth. He didn’t quite register the meaning of the next remark.

“It has a better view.”

“If you like cold and foreboding, I suppose.”

“No, my room in Ostwick. We’re right on the strait, so I can see the beginnings of the Amaranthine Ocean.”

Dorian snapped back to attention and replied, “Ah, now _that_ does sound more appealing, like what I might see in Qarinus. The glittering jewel of an entire ocean is your decoration, so you need nothing else.”

“Not that I believe _you_ would stop with a grand view.”

“Certainly not, but one does have to begin somewhere.”

Judah smiled as he shifted his other hand to Dorian’s waist. “You know, if you wanted to steal my soul, I don’t think I would mind.”

He liked the reference. He liked the flirt and the way Judah used it. He liked Judah… a lot. A small, cautionary voice rose in the back of Dorian’s mind but he squashed it, not wanting it to color the moment. A corner of his mouth turned up in a small smile as he replied, “I just might. But not today.”

One did not kiss the other; they came together and kissed each other. A tentative press of lips, a separation, and a pleasant sound marked their second endeavor. The next after was much the same, but lingered a bit longer. For the following, Dorian parted his lips ever so slightly, an invitation to enter, and Judah accepted.

Many positive adjectives—nice, pleasant, lovely, delightful—flitted into his mind and then out again, discarded, as Judah found that none came anywhere near to what he thought and felt about _this_ kiss, just what he’d imagined and hoped for when Dorian surprised him with their first kiss a short time ago. Despite his jacket, he felt the warmth of the hand on his waist. He drew the one he held to join it, then moved his own hand up to run fingers though Dorian’s hair, lightly holding his head as the kiss continued.

This first connective kiss was about exploration and learning; tastes, textures, how the other liked to move and what he allowed. Eyes closed, they were each completely absorbed in the feeling. They breathed through the nose as the time drew on.

The intensity of the kiss increased: the press of mouths was a bit firmer, the grip of hands a bit tighter, Dorian drew Judah closer as he deepened it. A warm flush flowed through Judah’s body, a rush of pleasure that settled in his groin. He’d wanted this for a while, and although he had no intention of going further, he wanted to continue and ignored it as he focused on the feeling of Dorian’s mouth melding with his own.

Dorian felt Judah begin to harden against him and hummed into the kiss in acknowledgement. He was surprised, and slightly amused, that Judah was this easily excited. How far was this going to go? How far did he _want_ it to go? He didn’t know the answer to the former and was unsure about the latter. The answer to the first was given by Judah.

That hum broke through Judah’s absorption and he backed away abruptly. The two men stared at each other, breathing heavily, and he saw that Dorian was startled by the sudden abbreviation. “I—” he started, his voice thick with desire. He swallowed to clear it and tried again. “I’m sorry.”

Why should he apologize? They were men, such a physical response was natural and common, if anyone would understand it would be _another_ man. Judah’s embarrassment was not that it happened, but that he became so lost in the kiss that he had allowed it to happen. He was also concerned about the unintentional signal it could send. They were alone in his quarters, with his bed, and he worried that Dorian might interpret it a certain way when he wasn’t going to follow through.

Dorian perceived that Judah was embarrassed and found that utterly adorable. He raised an eyebrow at the apology, but chose not to address it as he said, “That tends to happen with _that_ sort of kissing.” His unconcerned air was not affected; he didn’t care that Judah had gotten an erection as they kissed, but did wonder at the _other_ reaction, that sudden reticence. When no response seemed forthcoming, he asked, “Hm, is it time for me to go back to my books?” with the same casual tone, as if an abrupt cessation of passionate kissing were a frequent occurrence.

Maker, he felt like an idiot. He certainly didn’t want Dorian to feel as though he were being dismissed now that he was done with him. “I didn’t mean—” Judah tried. “It’s not that I—”

Dorian tilted his head and offered a reassuring smile. He hooked a finger and ran it along the line of Judah’s jaw as he said, “Judah, I’m just teasing you,” gave a light parting kiss and added, “I’ll see you later, yes?” before turning away.

When Dorian departed, Judah sat heavily on the sofa, ran his hands over his scalp and sighed. What had he gotten himself into with this man? When starting from Ostwick on the way to the Conclave, after waking with memory loss, confusion, and a mysteriously marked hand, when agreeing to join the Inquisition, he had _never_ expected to meet someone like Dorian Pavus.

Judah liked Dorian. A lot. Although he wasn’t completely inexperienced, he had never felt this level of interest—emotional and physical—in another person. This was complicated by the man’s casual attitude about the whole thing; he knew Dorian was interested, but that was all. He didn’t quite know what to do about it, but supposed that all they needed was time. Judah was a patient man; he’d been waiting a long time and could wait a while longer.

Once beyond the door to Judah’s quarters, Dorian shook his head and smiled in bemusement. They had taken the kiss too long and too far, and Judah was not ready for the further step. Dorian saw that he had the desire, was willing and eager, yet held back. Whether it was from personal embarrassment or some other reason, he couldn’t guess.

Dorian didn’t know exactly what this was, or where it was going. He wasn’t in Tevinter any longer, so maybe… No. Such thoughts were foolish, weren’t they? But he did know one thing for certain: whatever this was, it wasn’t going to be dull.

 

 

End.


End file.
